


Coping 10:  Making Up

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Series: Coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair try to work out their problems.  This is the last of the Coping series.<br/>This story is a sequel to Coping 9.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coping 10:  Making Up

## Coping 10: Making Up

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Title: Coping 10: Making Up  
Author: Grey  
E-Mail: Grey853@aol.com  
Rating: NC-17, explicit sex  
Pairing: J/B  
Status: New  
Date: April 20, 1998  
Archive: Yes to both  
Archive email: Grey853@aol.com 

Series/Sequel: Tenth and final story in the Coping series Website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Bet you could've guessed that by now though. 

Summary: Jim and Blair try to work out their problems to feel at ease again. 

Notes: If you haven't read the rest of the series, you probably won't understand some of the references made. 

Coping 10: Making Up  
by Grey 

Jim Ellison stood in front of his captain's desk, hand to mouth, anxiety teasing his gut like the slow waking of winter bees. 

"Simon, I just wanted to thank you again for letting me stay at your place for awhile." 

The captain put down his pen and leaned back in his desk chair. He didn't look up, but instead turned to his coffee maker. "So, I guess this is your way of telling me you're leaving to go back to the loft?" He poured himself a splash of coffee and lifted the cup to indicate an offering. "Want some?" 

"No, sir. And, yes, after last week, we've been meeting and talking a lot. We've started sessions together with Dr. Michaels." 

"That sounds good, Jim. I'm glad things seem to be working out. Actually I'll be sorry to see you move out. My place hasn't been this clean since before I moved in. I swear, I thought Blair was kidding when he called you Mr. Clean." 

"I hate dirt, sir." 

Simon glanced up, surprised by the conviction in his friend's tone. 

Jim crossed his arms around his chest and shrugged. "Well, I do, sir, but actually, it's just something to keep busy, you know. I hope it wasn't a problem." 

"Hell, no. Do you have any idea how much it would've cost me to have somebody come in and do all those windows? Come back anytime." Pausing for a moment, he turned serious and lifted a finger. "Just make sure it's for a different reason, okay?" 

Stepping to the office window, staring out to avoid the violent images parading themselves across his mental screen, Jim stayed still. He didn't trust himself to speak right away. 

"Jim? Are you okay?" 

"Simon, I won't ever be back for the same reason." His voice stumbled, thick and heavy. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean you would be." 

"If I ever did that again, I couldn't stand it, Simon. I mean that." 

"I know you do, Jim. But, hey, you're doing a lot better now. Working with Michaels seems to helping a lot. Plus your sentinel abilities are back on line. That's all good." 

Reaching out, Jim ran his hand along the cool glass of the window, his finger tips sensing the slick coolness of the imperfect pane, the slight imperfections huge against his touch. 

"I know. Blair knew just what to do to figure this thing out. It's just I don't want to screw it up. I couldn't stand to lose him." 

"You won't. Now that you understand the problem, you'll work it out." 

"You don't understand, Simon. Remembering all that violence from the past doesn't change any of it. I don't want to end up hurting the people I love like my father." 

Moving to stand beside his friend and his best detective, Simon put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Jim, listen, I know this has been tough, but let me tell you what I see from my more objective perspective." 

Head down, still strangled by doubt, Jim asked, "What that, sir?" 

"I see a troubled, but brave man who's fighting to heal. Jim, this is harder than taking a bullet. With something like that, it's right out there where you can see it. With this kind of stuff, well, it's a hell of a lot trickier. The thing is that you're trying. You not pretending that everything's just fine and that you don't need a damn thing like you've done before. What I see is a survivor, someone's who's not going down without a fight." 

Words swelled almost too thick to be heard. "Thanks, Simon." 

Moving back to his desk, the captain held up a folder. "Okay, that's enough of that bonding stuff. Here. Take this out and run down some of these leads, and, Jim, when you see Blair later, kiss the boy for me, will ya?" 

Jerking his head up, startled by the sudden shift, Jim saw the wide grin across his captain's face. He cleared his throat trying not to smile back. "You're taking a terrible risk saying things like that, Simon." 

"Really? Can't stand the competition?" 

"Simon, I hope you're not going to hold that against me forever." 

The captain's face softened. "See. You're better already." 

"What are you talking about?" Confusion twitched his cheek. 

"A few weeks ago you would've been crazy enough to really get mad over something like that." 

"Hell, a few weeks ago you wouldn't have said something like that, or if you did we'd have been putting on a boxing match for the bullpen." 

"No doubt. Frankly, I think we've both gotten a little education about each other and ourselves over this. Even out of misery comes truth, right?" 

"Hell, if that's the case, I should be too damn smart to walk." 

"As far as I can see your legs still work, so I guess you've still got a few lessons to learn. Now, go on and get to work. If you're moving back in with Blair, you'll probably need to leave a little early." Brown eyes sparkled with encouragement. 

"Thanks, Simon." 

Watching his detective head out to his desk, the captain pushed away the pestering doubts and crossed his mental fingers. He prayed that support would be enough. He certainly didn't want to arrest his best friend and he sure as hell didn't want to go to any damn funerals any time soon. 

* * *

Taking out the trash one-handed, Blair sat the bag down while he reached for the door. Just as he opened it, he discovered his partner on the other side with his suitcase. "Jim?" 

"Hey, Chief." 

"Why are you just standing outside like that? You know you could've come on in or at the very least knocked." 

"I know." Jim spied the trash and volunteered. "Here. Let me take that down to the dumpster real quick." Before Blair could even answer, the older man had snatched up the plastic parcel and dashed away. 

"Oh, man. Nothing like a freaked out sentinel to start the evening right." Blair shook his head as he picked up the suitcase and carried it back inside. By the time he'd taken it upstairs, Jim returned with the mail, but he didn't enter the doorway. 

"So, Jim, why don't you bring that on in here, man? I mean, you are moving back in tonight, right?" 

"Yeah, Chief, I just.... I don't know, I'm a little nervous, I guess." 

"No kidding. Come on, man. Relax. I promise to behave if you will." 

Sad blue eyes studied the smiling young man before him. "Blair, I just don't want to screw up here. I'm sorry if I'm not doing this right." 

Blair stepped over to his lover and closed the door. He took Jim's hand and led him over the couch, urging him gently to sit down. "We've got to talk, man. I mean, it's okay to be nervous, but you're acting like it's our first date or something." 

"Well, it is in a way, Chief. It's sort of like a test, like that last big exam." 

Shaking his head, Blair settled himself in the place beside his partner. "Jim, listen, even if this were a test, which it isn't, you'd still be in great shape. I mean, who knows more about me than you do, except my mom? Nobody, that's who. So, lighten up." 

"I'm trying, Chief. It just feels like we've got all this pressure between us now, all because of me, and I'm just afraid it's all going to blow up." 

"I hear what you're saying, Jim, I do. But that's not going to happen." 

Both hands rubbed his thighs nervously. "How can you be so sure? I'm not." 

Blair repositioned himself and sat cross-legged beside his lover. "I'm sure, because I know you. We're going to talk all this stuff through and it's going to be okay." As he talked, Blair took a pencil and started shoving it in and out along the edge of his cast. Jim flinched as Blair pushed harder and harder to get the point further down between plaster and skin. It looked downright painful. 

"What's that about, Chief?" 

"Oh, man, you wouldn't believe how this thing itches. Last night I wanted to get out a saw and hack it off. Of course, that would kind of defeat the purpose of wearing the damn thing in the first place, huh?" 

Jim's face tensed at the taunting memory of his hand wrapped around his partner's wrist, the sensation of snapping bone crunching in his zoned-out fingers. Jim used a voice barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Blair." 

Blair put the pencil down and scooted closer to his best friend. "I know that. You can stop apologizing any time now. What's that 2001 so far and counting?" 

"It's just that I still can't believe that happened. That's what I'm talking about. I've done things and they seem like a dream. I don't want to lose track of reality and end up hurting you again." 

"Jim, come on, man, I thought we went over all this. I know you feel guilty and scared and shit, but it's time to have a little faith in yourself here. You're always saying that I don't have enough confidence, but turn that around, my friend. It's you who needs to figure out how great Jim Ellison is." 

"Chief, please. We both know the truth." 

"Which is?" Blair edged closer, his right shoulder leaning against Jim's. 

"That I've got some problems." 

Letting his forehead shift, he nuzzled into Jim's arm and shook his head. "And your problems are mine, too, Jim. I know that, but I swear the only thing I can think of right now, and don't laugh, is that this cast is driving me crazy." The young man sat back up and grabbed for the pencil ready to take another desperate stab at the mind-blazingly annoying irritation that raced up his entire forearm. 

"Chief, you need to stop that. You're going to hurt yourself." 

"Easy for you to say. You don't have what feels like a whole army of pissed off fire ants crawling up your arm. 

Watching his lover's irritation grow, Jim reached over and took the pencil from his hand. 

"Hey, man, don't do that." 

"I've got a better idea." Jim tentatively reached out and ran his fingers along the newly shaved jaw line. He smiled, heartened that his guide had planned ahead for the night. Such secret knowledge spurred him on. Cupping the back of Blair's head, silky brown curls pleased each finger, he pulled him closer. 

Only slightly resistant, still a little Jim-shy, he hesitated. "Hey, man, what are you up to here?" 

"Well, if you have to ask, I've been away too long, Chief." Jim lowered his mouth to Blair's, gently nudging lips to tongue, requesting entry. 

A split second later, his guide let his mouth open and sighed the sweetest of whispers, "Jim." 

Silky heat rushed and enveloped sentinel tongue moving past lips, past cooler slick teeth to a satin cavern wall. A rush of almond crushed his mind, his whole being held with the erotic essence of his guide. He wanted to swallow him up alive and live, forever warmed by his energy, needing his spirit to make him feel whole again. He needed to fill the empty spaces that swelled within him. Blair made his head swim to the deepest expanse of himself and kept him alive, no drowning in despair or grief or guilt. Blair made his life work. 

He sucked harder and found Blair pushing back, gulping for air. "Whoa, hold up a little, man." 

Focused entirely on the firm body in arms, Jim only pulled away enough to see his lover's flushed face, his eyes dilated almost to black. Arousal, like a musky perfume, made him dizzy with hunger. His voice husky and gruff formed simple words, "Breathe later." 

"Oh, man, guess what?" 

Nipping at an ear, licking his way down the jaw, to the salty tendons in his neck, the sentinel muttered, "What?" 

"My arm doesn't itch anymore, man. This is great." 

A deep chuckle lowered to bass as Jim continued sucking in the hollow of his guide's throat, drinking in the racing pulses. He unbuttoned the blue silk shirt and trailed kisses to the left nipple, silver pierced and hard. Latching on, he teased and tickled, until Blair's ability to talk passed quickly from chanted Jims to befuddled, incoherent moans. Sweat's heavy scent flooded the air and hardened all the right parts. 

Reaching down, he rubbed the bulge between his guide's legs. Hips humped against his hand and before he could even unzip the jeans, Blair arched up, a deep chest-grabbing groan growling into space. "Jim!" Warm liquid through denim coated his hand with a pungent whiff of bitter tang that reached all the way to his lungs. 

Leaning in, he captured Blair's lips with his own, swallowing his words, owning all that was his. His guide's right hand reached out and quickly undid Jim's jeans, pushing them down, taking the engorged cock into a practiced, talented fist. Slippery with pre-cum, he stroked while tongue fucking with a matching rhythm. Tissues tightened to tearing while muscles contracted against protesting bones. Every cell in rebellion battled to survive the nerves exploding in unison along a wave of fire. Breathing and meaning ended, over flashed with an epiphany of pleasure. Thigh muscles shaking, Jim collapsed forward, his wild heart resting on his guide's love-slicked chest. 

Several minutes passed before either man spoke. Finally, Blair reached up and touched Jim's lips with a tender sentinel-flavored finger. Then caressing his lover's cheek, his voice satisfied and soft, he whispered, "Welcome home, Jim." 

And for the first time in Jim Ellison's love-challenged life he actually understood a home's true meaning. 

The End 


End file.
